


not vague at all

by 3ghosts



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22671196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3ghosts/pseuds/3ghosts
Summary: Monday nights mean takeout from the nearby noodle house for dinner. Their orders have always included free fortune cookies. When the cookies start giving Noctis increasingly suggestive—no, downrightinappropriate—advice, Noctis shamelessly decides to heed it all.(Or, Noctis lets his hormones get the best of him.)
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 22
Kudos: 207





	1. Chapter 1

The piece of paper in the fortune cookie reads like a joke.

**_Euphoria is succulent. Get naked and enjoy yourself._ **

What.

Noctis stares at the words for several moments before stuffing the little note into his jeans pocket. Weirdest fortune yet, he thinks as he pops the two broken halves of his cookie into his mouth and chews thoughtfully.

“What words of wisdom did your fortune cookie offer this time?” Ignis asks from behind the kitchen counter where he’s plating up their takeout. Noctis can smell the stir-fried scallion noodles and spicy meat dumplings from the living room.

It’s become something of a habit, Ignis taking store-bought dinners up to Noctis’ apartment on the busiest day of the week. Ignis’ Monday schedule is too tight for anything more elaborate or indulgent, and Noctis doesn’t mind the takeout anyway so long as he gets his favourite dishes from the noodle house two blocks away.

They always get these stale fortune cookies wrapped in gold foil tucked into the takeaway bag, and it’s now become the norm, to receive a string of words foreshadowing some vague destiny with his Monday night dinners.

Noctis swallows and clears his throat. “It wants me to—ah, it says I will encounter a tall, dark, and handsome magician who will grant me three wishes.”

“Mmm, yes, that seems to be on par with the fortune-telling gods these days,” Ignis agrees offhandedly as he whisks the plates off the counter and brings them over to the living room, places them neatly on the coffee table one by one, and finally settles into the couch beside Noctis. “They are always very generous.”

Noctis grins down at the spread of food before them— _yes_ , there’s grilled mackerel, his one and only weakness. He loves the sweet sauce that coats the skin of the charred fish. He makes a grab for a pair of chopsticks, then looks back up at Ignis and nudges at the second fortune cookie that sits between them on the couch, still wrapped in its gaudy packaging. “Before we start, I wanna see what yours says.”

Ignis huffs an amused sigh. He rips open the wrapper mock-ceremoniously and cracks the cookie open, hands the cookie pieces to Noctis because he knows how much Noctis loves to eat them, and looks at the words.

“‘Instigate deep breaths’,” Ignis says slowly. He flips the strip of paper over. “That’s all it says.”

Huh.

Noctis crunches on Ignis’ second-hand cookie and says, between bites, “I don’t know if that’s meant to be, uh, sage advice… but it just sounds plain creepy to me.” He thinks about his own fortune and licks his lips.

Ignis snorts. “Creepy is right.” He crumples the note in his hand and sets it down on the coffee table. “Fortune cookies are incapable of telling you anything useful.” He reaches for the TV remote. “So, what are we watching tonight?”

Noctis scoots forward to claim his plate of food. “We gotta finish that Altissian drama about the haunted cruise ship.”

“Right.”

Noctis sits back and watches as Ignis sorts through their Continue Watching list on Mogflix. He actively tries not to think about snuggling against the warm, solid body of his friend while he slurps up his noodles, tries not to let his mind wander.

_Euphoria is succulent. Get naked and enjoy yourself._

That doesn't even make _any sense_.

A couple of hours later, the dishes are washed and dried and Ignis has said goodnight and gone home. Noctis, in the privacy of his bedroom, finds himself wildly distracted, very much naked and _very much_ enjoying himself. He’d tried to shut his dangerous thoughts out tonight, but it had been a hopeless affair, as has always been the case with increasing regularity now. It’s not even wildly unexpected. Ignis has always been so good to him, so patient, so forwardly obliging, so quick to look after him and give him every ounce of attention.

Also, well. Ignis is fucking _hot_.

Sure, it’s taken him a while to notice. But he’s seen Ignis in the gym lately, seen the way he blows off steam after a hard day at work, seen the way he handles a fucking _polearm_. Noctis has watched, dazed and rapt with attention, the way sweat had dripped its way down Ignis’ surprisingly large biceps, that one time Ignis had him pinned to the floor during training. That alone had been fodder for his late night fantasies for an entire week.

And it’s this notion that shoots through his mind tonight as he splays himself on his bed, one hand wrapped around his erection: Ignis’ well-developed shoulders shifting above him, his sturdy forearms and wide hands moving across Noctis’ body, his slender fingers running along Noctis’ thighs, his open gaze fierce with hunger behind those glasses, low voice telling Noctis just how much of a fuckable prince he is, strong body pushing down against Noctis in reckless urgency as Noctis writhes underneath him, grinding their naked hips together, rubbing the length of himself on Noctis and _oh_ , he probably has a _huge—_

Noctis comes with a jerk, his free hand flying to his mouth to silence his yell. He squeezes at his cock and rides out the orgasm for as long as he can.

Fuck.

There’s a mess.

It takes a moment before his gasps start to die down, and then he’s left with a hazy memory of his fantasy. He feels good for all of five seconds before embarrassment takes over. Like it always does, whenever he imagines Ignis doing indecent things to him. He pegs it on the stupid fortune cookie this time, with its ridiculous advice.

The next cookie had better not give him any scandalous thoughts.

The following Monday night comes quickly.

Noctis is seated at the table, a stack of reports scattered around him. He’s been pouring over these vile documents for the last three hours.

He hears the front door open and doesn’t look up from his work. Only Ignis has the other set of keys to his place.

“Noct.”

“Hey, Iggy,” he calls out in greeting. “Sorry, bit tied up.”

He hears Ignis toe his shoes off, and then he hears the rustle of plastic bags as his chamberlain moves further into the apartment.

Ignis busies himself in the kitchen for a good five minutes, as though prudently leaving Noctis alone to keep working. That is, until he comes over and slides two fortune cookies along the table and into Noctis’ line of sight.

Noctis glances at the cookies, then shrugs and looks back down at the report he’s been trying hard to skim—something about unforeseen complications in the regular export of provisions to the Galahdian islands northeast. “Ah, you pick first.”

“Too busy to see what the stars have in store for you?”

Noctis just grunts offhandedly.

There’s a rustle, and then an audible snap.

“‘A friend whets your insatiable appetite. Knead the dough and you will hear good things tonight’.”

Noctis’ mind immediately goes some place very dirty.

Ignis laughs. “I suppose that would be me.”

Noctis blinks and finally looks up. “Uh…”

Ignis motions to the food in the bags. “Brought you food. I’m whetting your appetite.”

“Ah,” Noctis nods weakly. “Yeah.”

“Although, I’m not sure what that second part means. ‘Kneading the dough’.”

Noctis coughs and shrugs belatedly. Ignis hands him the second cookie.

He relents and takes it, tears open the wrapper, and cracks the cookie in two. It kind of just falls apart in his hands, so he crams the brittle pieces into his mouth and chews noisily, fiddling with the orphaned slip of paper until it innocently reveals:

**_You exude a compulsive demeanour. Control your wanton desires! Or not. Your call._ **

He shows it to Ignis and tries his best not to feel helpless.

“Interesting marketing technique,” Ignis says, after he’s read it. He is clearly amused. “For customers who’ve been having trouble deciding what to order, perhaps.”

“I don’t think this is a marketing thing,” Noctis mutters, feeling annoyed for some reason.

“Well, let’s move these reports somewhere else and we can have dinner.”

Noctis obliges, and he starts moving stacks of paper around. “You need to help me figure some of this stuff out later. I have questions.” He waves one of the reports in the air and hopes he’s not frowning too heavily about it.

“Certainly,” Ignis says. “After dinner, I’ll answer as many questions as I possibly can.”

It’s well past 10pm when Noctis realises they’ve been discussing the reports for hours.

“You’re staying the night, right?” Noctis asks when they finally bring the session to a close. He feels at least a little bit hopeful at Ignis’ answer, but also, it’s something that needs to be said—Ignis can’t possibly want to drive all the way home at this hour, not when he looks so tired, and not when it’s Noctis’ fault for keeping him here in the first place.

Ignis doesn’t even miss a beat. “If you don’t mind,” he says, and he sounds grateful for the offer.

It makes Noctis feel some amount of relief. Between the two of them, Noctis lives closer to the Citadel. Ignis would save at least fifteen minutes if he left from Noctis’ place, bypassing the early morning traffic to get to work.

There’s a second bedroom in the apartment with its own attached bathroom, for guests. Smaller than the master bedroom, but it has always sufficed for Ignis. Even the wardrobe in there is filled with extra Crownsguard outfits and Citadel-appropriate work clothes, all belonging to Ignis.

Ignis retires into his room for the night, and Noctis, after cataloging and rearranging the rest of his reports into their respective folders, is just about to do the same when he remembers something. There aren’t any clean towels left in the guest bathroom. He knows because Prompto had stayed the night on Friday and Noctis hadn’t bothered replacing the towels.

Ugh. Ignis clearly hasn’t noticed the complete lack of towels in the bathroom yet, or he’d be coming out to get some.

Noctis sighs and decides to be a good friend for once. He grabs a fresh, fluffy white towel from the laundry shelf, a couple of smaller face towels for good measure, and trudges over to the spare bedroom. He knocks twice, doesn’t get an answer, and cautiously opens the door.

Ignis is already in the bathroom, so he stands awkwardly for a moment before crossing the room to the bathroom door.

It’s half ajar, so he nudges it open slightly with one foot and… oh. He hears the shower running. Okay, great. He can just put the towels down by the sink and get out before Ignis even realises he's crept in.

Yeah. He’ll do that.

He takes a step into the bathroom and it’s steamy and warm. Almost suffocating.

It’s a completely involuntary reaction, he tells himself, when he makes the mistake of looking in the direction of the shower. Well, it’s not hard to, considering it’s not a big bathroom and the shower is right _there_ in all its glass-paned glory.

Completely fogged over, he can just about make out the silhouette of a body with pale skin through the glass, standing just under the running shower. Thank the gods the noise from the gushing water had masked the sound of Noctis opening the door. He wants to say he brought clean towels, wants to just abandon the towels on the counter and shut the door quietly to leave Ignis alone… but he just stands there and stares at the blurred silhouette of Ignis behind the glass, stares at the outline of his long legs, his broad shoulders.

The water shuts off quite suddenly; the whole bathroom goes absolutely silent.

_Oh crap._

Noctis almost bolts. But Ignis doesn’t step out of the shower. On the contrary, he makes a soft groan that Noctis would have definitely missed if the water had still been going. Unexpectedly, one of Ignis’ hands shoots out through the steam and splays itself against the fogged-up glass. Heavy droplets splash against the surface. Another groan, this time more audible, followed immediately by heavy panting.

_Oh gods._

Ignis’ shoulders are hunched over, and Noctis can’t see _anything_ through the glass, but he knows Ignis is definitely doing _something_ in there. He knows he should back out of the bathroom right now because if he’s _caught_ —

But no, Ignis can’t see him, and Ignis doesn’t know he’s there, and Ignis is clearly too busy getting excited in the shower to notice anyway, and fuck, Noctis would _very much_ like an uncensored view of this spectacle.

Ignis takes his time, and in the small space of the bathroom, with every small sound amplified by the narrow walls, Noctis stands rooted to the spot as he listens to Ignis pleasure himself, listens to the strained noises Ignis makes, to the sounds of wet flesh being pumped and stroked between slick fingers. When the strokes get more and more frantic, Noctis has to bite on his lip to keep himself from blowing his cover. Ignis chokes on a low moan and Noctis suddenly sees streaks of something thick and viscous being painted across the glass.

Hot.

Gods, fuck. _Hot_.

Noctis is painfully aware of how hard he is.

He needs to get _out_ of here.

Thankfully, Ignis starts the shower again, and the splashing water makes enough noise to let Noctis frantically deposit the clean towels by the sink and slip back out of the bathroom without being detected.

He spends the rest of the night holed up in his room, thinking about Ignis coming in the shower, about the filthy moan Ignis had made in that moment, about how fucking amazing it would be if it had been Noctis’ name he’d choked out in pleasure instead. He replays the scene in his mind over and over until he’s left squirming on his bedsheets, wanton desires very much _not_ under control.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Noctis knows Ignis isn’t quite so busy. He knows Ignis likes to come over early to cook dinner. If Noctis isn’t at the sushi restaurant downtown working his part-time job, Ignis usually calls beforehand to ask for Noctis’ meal preferences.

Noctis doesn’t have a Tuesday shift, not for the next three weeks. So he hangs out at the arcade for hours with Prompto, who wipes the floor with Noctis at Freeshooter Xig at least three times before demanding to know why Noctis is acting so weirdly distracted.

“What is _up_ with you, dude?”

“Nothing, you’re just too good at this game.”

“Well, yeah, duh. But. You’re seriously spacing out on me, and it’s kinda not cool.”

“Oh.” Noctis fiddles with the plastic gun in his hand and shrugs. “I, uh, walked in on Ignis doing something in the shower last night.”

To his credit, Prompto only stares. “What. Like, he was—” he stage-whispers the next words, “touching himself?”

“Yeah, but he didn’t know I was there. So he just, um, kept going.”

Prompto finally reacts with a scandalised expression. “You stood there and _watched_?”

“No!” Noctis sputters, feeling his face heat up. “I mean, yes, but I couldn’t _see_ anything! He was behind the glass. It was all fogged up.”

“You perv!” Prompto sniggers. “You’re lucky he didn’t catch you peeking. Or, maybe if you’d have _let him_ , he might’ve asked you to join him in the shower.” He wags his eyebrows at Noctis. “You’ve been crazy hot for him since, you know, _forever_.”

“Shut up, you know he doesn’t know.”

“Yeah, maybe it’s time to tell him?”

“No chance in hell, Prompto.”

They walk out of the arcade as the sun starts to set. Prompto hasn’t let the subject drop.

“Ignis only has eyes for you, man, and you know it.”

“That’s because I’m his _job_ ,” Noctis mutters.

Prompto smacks him on the arm. “Have you ever _actually_ met anyone who likes their day job? Ignis literally spends time outside of his schedule to hang out with you. He takes _showers_ at your place.”

“You do that, too.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like you enough to try to figure out what all your favourite foods are, and then attempt to make them from scratch and feed them to you. Also, I don’t have _sexy_ showers at yours.”

Noctis considers this.

He says goodbye to Prompto at the bus stop, then heads in the direction of his apartment. He checks his phone and frowns. No call from Ignis. No messages.

It’s close to dinner.

Hmm.

 _Hey, you coming round?_ he types out on his phone. He adds something like five additional question marks at the end for good measure, because maybe he feels a little sulky from the radio silence, then sends the text to Ignis.

A few moments later, Ignis calls him.

Noctis hesitates for several seconds, let’s the phone ring for longer than it should, before he picks up. “Ignis, hey, you cooking tonight?”

Ignis takes a moment to respond. There’s a faint sound of paper being shuffled in the background, then a sigh. “Sorry for not calling sooner. I was held up. A meeting went on far longer than it was supposed to. I’m only just about to leave the Citadel.”

“Oh.” Noctis says. “Damn, thought you’d be out by now.”

And all of a sudden he wants to tell Ignis that it’s fine, he can just get some fast food delivered. Ignis can go home and rest. Besides, after last night, Noctis doesn’t think he can look his chamberlain in the eye for a while.

Before he can say anything, Ignis continues.

“If you don’t mind another night of Noodle Magic, I’ll head down to pick up a few dishes right now. Something different from last night. Hot and sour noodle soup? Or grilled tofu soba?”

“Oh, uh,” Noctis’ brain scrambles for something, “anything’s good. Just. Remember the mackerel. And maybe get a few of those soup dumplings.”

“Of course. I won’t take long.”

“Yeah, no, take your time. I’ll set the table.”

There’s a pause, some background noise. “Oh, and if it’s all right with you, I might spend the night again. I’ve an early meeting at the Citadel tomorrow morning. Seven o’clock.”

_7am? Yuck._

“You work too hard,” Noctis mutters into the phone, then sighs. “You know you’re always welcome to stay, Specs. No need to ask.”

“It’s your place, Noct. Only common courtesy to have your permission. Besides, this will be two nights in a row. I don’t want to overstep.”

“Overstep all you want,” Noctis says before he can stop himself. “I mean,” he backpedals, “as long as you keep bringing me food, my place is yours.” Ugh. He’s just embarrassing himself further.

“I won’t make it a habit,” Ignis promises him, then, before he hangs up: “I’ll see you soon.”

Noctis checks his watch—okay, there’s _just_ enough time to make one quick stop—and he makes a detour to the nearest convenience store.

Ignis walks in and spots the black box on the table almost immediately.

“Oh, Noct. You shouldn’t have.”

Noctis grins at him from his spot on the couch. “Figured you’d need your wake up call. For tomorrow.”

“You didn’t need to get a carton of _six_ ,” Ignis says, placing the plastic bag of food on the table next to the box filled with half a dozen cans of Ebony. He deposits his work satchel on a chair and flashes Noctis a small smile. “One would have sufficed.”

“Call me generous,” Noctis says, aiming for smug and confident.

There is a considering pause as Ignis brings his hands up to his neck to gently loosen his tie. “That you are, Noct,” he says, “generous, and many other things.” The way Ignis looks at him then, as he slowly unloops the fabric around his neck and drapes it on top of his work bag, expression calm and intense and probing, sends a thrill up Noctis’ spine.

“Long day?” Noctis asks, as close to casual as possible.

Ignis shoots him a wry look. “Indeed. But it’s always a relief to finally be able to relax in the presence of His Royal Highness at the end of the day.”

Noctis snorts. “Yeah, you know I’m amazing.”

Ignis doesn’t respond to that, only smiles and reaches out to unpack the food from Noodle Magic. “Hungry?”

“Yeah, Ignis. Starving.”

“Good, so am I.”

There are four containers packed to bursting. Grilled mackerel, soup dumplings, braised short ribs, tofu soba. And as they sit at the table and share the food, Noctis thinks to himself that he’ll gladly have Noodle Magic every day of the week if, for some reason, Ignis ever decides to stop cooking for him. Then he thinks of Ignis in his spotless apron, standing behind the kitchen bench with a sharp knife in his hand, preparing something needlessly complicated with smooth and deliberate strokes, and okay, _fine_. He’d take Ignis cooking in his kitchen over store-bought food any day.

Dinner takes a weird turn just as Noctis pops the last dumpling in his mouth.

“Thank you for the clean towels, last night.”

Noctis almost inhales the dumpling through his windpipe.

He coughs, chews thoroughly, and swallows.

Fuck.

“Uh.” He brings his eyes to Ignis’ face, very slowly. “You’re welcome. Um, thanks for the food.” He tries to avoid eye contact. It doesn’t really work.

Ignis, thank the gods, leaves it at that and stands to clear the table.

When they’re done with the clean-up, Ignis rummages through the empty takeaway bags and extracts the two fortune cookies. He tosses one to Noctis, then opens his own.

“‘You know what you want, claim your favourite guilty pleasure and assert your dominance. Now is a good time to try new things, no matter how sinfully exotic.’” Ignis reads, then looks up at Noctis, expression carefully blank. “I guess we’ll have to order the behemoth steak tartare next time.”

Noctis wants to punch whoever’s been writing these stupid fortunes.

When it’s his turn to read out his fortune, he does it loudly and vindictively. “‘Thrill in the taste of hot broth spilling down the back of your throat. Let it squirt and dribble.’ Oh, fuck off.”

“That one _is_ slightly more visual than I was expecting,” Ignis concedes.

Finally. A proper reaction.

Noctis rounds on him, waving the slip of paper in the air irately. “These have been _ridiculous_.”

Ignis chuckles. “I don’t know, Noct, I’ve quite enjoyed reading them in your presence lately.”

Noctis stares. 

Ignis looks back at him steadily.

They don’t say anything for a moment.

“Well,” Ignis says. “I think I’ll have a shower now. Early to bed tonight, for me.”

Noctis narrows his eyes at Ignis, mind slowly catching up. “Don’t forget to grab fresh towels.”

“Oh.” There’s a suspicious note of disappointment. “You won’t be coming to deliver more?”

“You wish, Specs.”

Ignis just eyes him pointedly before he stands and moves away.

As soon as Ignis finally retreats into his room with new towels gathered from the laundry, Noctis decides to finally freak out.

What the fuck was that?

Were they just _flirting_?

After a good deal of thinking, he decides to distract himself with a video game. Because if he doesn’t, he knows he’ll probably spend the next thirty minutes imagining Ignis touching himself in the shower.

It’s easy enough to get into the swing of things. His character isn’t a very high level, so he still has a long way to go with the grinding. He has to revive his character five times before he gets the hang of the mini boss, and then he advances to the next part of the spaceship dungeon.

He’s just walked into a nest full of killer robots when he hears the door to Ignis’ room open and the sound of Ignis walking out.

He glances in Ignis’ direction distractedly. Ignis’ hair is down, and he’s not wearing his glasses. He looks younger, less intimidating. He has a pair of loose drawstring lounge pants on, sitting low at the hips. No shirt.

Noctis pauses the game and turns to properly regard him. And before he chickens out, he blurts, “You look good, like that.”

Ignis doesn’t say anything in response. He just pads towards the couch and stops a few feet away. “They’ve cancelled the meeting in the morning,” he says. “I don’t have to get up early tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Noctis keeps his eyes glued to Ignis. He knows he’s probably staring too hard, but he can’t look away from all the bare skin he sees, can’t look away from the well-defined muscles that have always stayed hidden under starched shirts like a dirty secret. “Nice.”

“We can stay up. If you’d like.”

Noctis looks down at his controller, then back up. “Um. What would you like to do?”

“Well,” Ignis speaks softly now, “if His Highness permits, I would like to try new things.”

Okay, straight out of the shitty, inappropriate fortune cookie. Ignis is _definitely_ flirting. “Like what?” Noctis challenges, feeling suddenly bold. “Gonna claim your guilty pleasure?”

“And assert some amount of dominance, yes.”

Noctis feels like he’s dreaming. “Mm. That’ll be tough, seeing as I’m the prince.”

“Noct,” Ignis says slowly, “that’s certainly a grand assumption. Who said I was thinking about you?”

Noctis doesn’t bother to point out the fact that he can see Ignis is hard through the loose cotton of his pants. “I think you think about me _a lot_.”

Ignis says nothing in return, and Noctis thinks he’s just crossed a line with his stupid mouth, but Ignis just turns away from the living room and moves in the direction of the bedroom door.

The wrong bedroom door.

“Let me show you what I’ve been thinking about,” Ignis suggests, before slipping into Noctis’ room.

Holy fuck.

Noctis scrambles to turn off the game console and TV, then tries to compose himself at least a little bit before following after Ignis.

No way is this happening right now.

It’s dark in his room. Ignis hasn’t even bothered turning anything on, and only the warm spill of light from the hallway outside drives some fraction of the darkness away.

“Ignis,” Noctis hisses.

“Noct.” Ignis is there, suddenly, pulling him all the way into the room.

Noctis lets Ignis push him against the wall by the door, lets Ignis softly drag his fingers down Noctis’ arms.

“Is this okay?” Ignis asks, quietly.

Noctis nods mutely, enthusiastically. He shifts his hips a little, lets Ignis feel just how eager he is. “Yeah. Yeah, Ignis. More than okay.”

It’s apparently enough of a green light for Ignis to continue, because he leans low and whispers into his ear. “Noct. Did you visit me last night while I was in the shower?”

“Ha. Yeah. Sorry,” Noctis says, extremely aware he does not sound sorry at all.

“Mm, and did you hear anything?”

“Some pretty interesting sounds,” Noctis replies, breathless. “They were hot.”

“I’d like to hear you make some interesting sounds for me,” Ignis tells him, warm hands slipping under Noctis’ t-shirt.

Noctis kisses Ignis then, and Ignis makes a rough sound in the back of his throat.

It doesn’t take long for Ignis to have Noctis on the bed, and oh gods, Noctis can feel the hard length of Ignis pressed against his thigh. And before Noctis knows what’s happening, all of their clothes are off, and Noctis has his legs spread wide on either side of Ignis’ hips, and Ignis is pushing himself down onto Noctis, kissing and sucking at the skin behind his ear.

“Fuck. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” Noctis says, and he knows he sounds needy and shameless with that admission.

“Wanted what?” Ignis murmurs against his neck.

“You, on top of me, like this.”

“Tell me. What else do you want, Noctis?”

The way his name rolls off Ignis’ tongue makes Noctis shudder. “I – ah - your fingers in me, your tongue. Your – your cock. All of you, inside me, spreading me open.”

He feels Ignis spasm, feels him involuntarily drive his hips down into Noctis, and Noctis has to concentrate really hard on not coming then and there.

“That’s a tall order,” Ignis pants out. “Debauching the prince so thoroughly.”

Noctis rolls his hips upwards, eliciting a ragged moan from Ignis. “Ruin me, Ignis. You have permission.”

Ignis pulls back a bit. Looks down at Noctis with a gaze that makes Noctis feel completely naked in a different way, and Noctis has to reach down between them to curl his fingers around Ignis to keep him going. Ignis stops him. “Noct… Noct, we’ll go slow.”

Noctis, in his addled state, only nods, because he’s aware that they’ve crossed into dangerous territory, knows there’s duty and decorum thrown somewhere between the blurred lines of their relationship, and he thinks maybe Ignis will let them get away with it. Let them get away with whatever this is. But he also knows he can’t fuck this up. Not with Ignis.

He doesn’t want Ignis to think that this is just some fleeting thing. He doesn’t want that at all.

“Slow,” Noctis agrees, “but I think you need to know. I’ve thought about you. A lot. Almost every night. And I’ve thought about kissing you, and holding your hand, and – and telling you stupid things like how insanely smart and amazing you are. And I’ve thought about – about us. Doing this. Doing _more_ than this.”

He hopes Ignis understands everything he is, and isn’t, saying.

“I want this, too.” The way Ignis says it, honest and clear with intent, takes Noctis’ breath away. “I’ve always wanted this.”

It’s exhilarating when Ignis shimmies downward then, and Noctis watches as Ignis kisses slowly across his abdomen and hipbones. His fingers come to rest at the base of his cock, and Noctis has to remember to breathe. Ignis watches Noctis closely, eyes never leaving his face, as he starts to stroke him—loosely at first, and then firm. Fast. Noctis sobs out a desperate moan as Ignis works him, and he looks down and he can see his own precum leaking down the length of him and onto Ignis’ long fingers, wet and glistening.

Ignis continues his ministrations until his hands are slick, then abruptly he pushes Noctis’ legs up so Noctis’ knees are bent and Ignis’ head is between his thighs. And one moment Ignis’ tongue is warm against the tip of his cock, lapping and probing at the slit there, and the next, his entire mouth is wrapped around him. The sudden wet heat almost makes Noctis arch right off the bed.

“Oh, _fuck_.” Noctis has to try very hard not to say it over and over again.

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck _holy fuck_.

He can’t even watch—Ignis sliding his hot mouth over the length of him is something he’s only seen in his dreams, and it’s impossible to keep himself from making all sorts of embarrassingly loud, increasingly vulgar sounds.

And it’s more than overwhelming, when Ignis reaches under him and pushes one finger, slick with his precum, against his opening, presses it slowly inside, a shallow penetration. It makes him gasp and clench around Ignis uncontrollably, takes a moment of adjusting to the intrusion, and then he’s making soft, pleading moans at the way Ignis moves his finger inside of him. _Oh gods, yes, Ignis, please, please, yes_. A second finger joins the first, stretching him open, and the combination of stimuli—his cock repeatedly nudging the back of Ignis’ throat, Ignis’ fingers pushing deep into the hot tightness of him, the view of Ignis coating his full cock with spit—sends him over the edge.

He comes with a cry and a violent shudder, Ignis’ fingers buried inside him. His cock pulses into the heat of Ignis’ mouth in thick, erratic bursts. And Ignis takes it with a series of appreciative groans. All of it.

It takes a long minute for him to catch his breath.

He’s completely spent. Even so, he can’t help the soft whine that escapes him when Ignis slowly pulls his fingers from his twitching hole, leaving a satisfying ache that he wants to remember forever.

Gods, he feels _so fucking good_.

He hears movement, feels the bed shift as Ignis moves to settle beside him.

There is silence for a moment. Heavy. Loaded.

“We probably shouldn’t make this a habit,” Ignis says, low and soft. Like it hadn’t been Ignis himself who instigated this in the first place. Like he hadn’t just made Noctis come obscenely hard into his mouth.

Noctis thinks about how sated he feels, thinks about how he wouldn’t mind getting blown and fingered by Ignis every night for the rest of his life. He hums and turns his body to face Ignis, holds his gaze steady. “That was fucking amazing, Ignis. I’d let you do that to me any day of the week. You have _no idea_ the thoughts I’ve been having about you. What I’ve wanted you to do to me.”

Ignis doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just looks at Noctis with a keen intensity. When he finally speaks, his words are strained and breathless. “I think, Noct, that I may need another shower.” There’s an expectant pause. “Would you care to join me?”

Noctis looks at Ignis, sees how wide his pupils are blown. He moves his gaze down across Ignis’ naked body and sees how hard Ignis is. And, fuck, he feels his own cock trying to react to that, feels the stirring of arousal. A shower sounds like a good idea. “Yeah. I still need to feel your hot broth spill down my throat.”

A sly look. “Ah. Is that what you want?”

Noctis huffs. “It’s what the fortune said. Can’t just ignore good advice.”

“Yes. Of course, Noct.”

Six days later, the fortune cookies declare:

**_Try the Braised Gizzard Stew next time. Good for the common cold._ **

And:

**_10% Off Your Next Order. Just Bring A Friend._ **

“Yeah, I think you were right,” Noctis grumbles at his new boyfriend. “This is totally a marketing thing, Specs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was an attempt to get rid of writer's block. really not what i expected to come _flying_ out of my brain.


End file.
